Of Quest and Company
by StormWarning27
Summary: Sixty years ago, the company of Thorin Oakenshield vanished on the outskirts of Mirkwood. Now they have reappeared; found by a Fellowship on a quest to save Middle Earth. How will the two companies work together? And whatever shall Legolas do with all these dwarves? AU crossover of LOTR and "The Hobbit". No slash; rated T for violence
1. Prologue 1: Two Quests, Two Companies

**A/N: Either this fic is a somewhat good idea or it's utter blasphemy. To be honest, I'm surprised no one has tackled this idea yet. This will be the first of two short prologues; please remember to review!**

**Oh yeah! I don't own LOTR, Middle Earth, or anything cool, to be honest. It all belongs to someone else.**

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They numbered nine.

The grey wizard, Gandalf, leaned on his staff as he led them south from Rivendell. Beside him walked Aragorn, both ranger and future-king.

The others walked in file behind them. Frodo Baggins, the ring-bearer and Sam Gamgee, a faithful servant of Frodo's who was more friend than anything else...though he would never make that claim. Two other hobbits, Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrine Took, argued and laughed as they walked, caring little for dangers that lay ahead.

Boromir of Gondor traveled in grim silence, and Gimli, son of Gloin chose to converse with the hobbits, asking questions of the Shire.

In the back, Legolas of the Mirkwood realm kept watch with keen elven eyes and sharp elven ears.

They were a company of nine disparate individuals called a fellowship, but not yet formed into one. Their goal was to destroy the One Ring of Sauron, their destination was Mordor.

/

They numbered fourteen.

Their leader was Thorin Oakenshield of the line of Durin. Those who followed him were those who had proved their loyalty and honor, dwarves with brave and willing hearts.

Balin, old and wise, whose council was sure. Dwalin, whose worth as a warrior was unquestioned. Fìli and Kìli, young and untested, but skilled and determined.

Bifur, Bofur, Bombur were not warriors, but their place here was not doubted. Kindly Oin and quick-tempered Gloin; proper Dori, polite Ori, and secretive Nori.

Last was the sole member of their group who was _not_ a dwarf. Bilbo Baggins of the Shire, a thoroughly respectable hobbit.

They were fifteen, yet hardship had forged them into a strong unit. They were bound together on this journey. Their quest, to reclaim their home. Their destination, the Lonely Mountain.

/

But chance had a different plan in mind. Neither company could imagine how fate would twist and time would tear and destinies would be changed. None could have expected the storm that was coming.

Two quests would collide, but what would the result be? Chaos and ruin? Or would they pull together and become one?

Could they become one company, with one quest?


	2. Prologue 2: Storm and Rift

**A/N: Here's the second prologue! Longer A/N at the bottom.**

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Bilbo didn't know why he did it. After all, he always kept the ring in his pocket. Why had he put it in his pack?

But that was what he did. Slipped the ring into a secret pocket on the inside of the pack and then, distracted by some nonsense from Fìli and Kìli, had walked away and left it.

When the first thunderclap boomed overhead, shaking the earth, and rattling Bilbo's teeth, all thought of packs and magic rings left his head. The dwarves all looked towards the forest, for a strong wind was suddenly gusting out of Mirkwood, blowing black fog in their direction.

All the dwarves started up at once, weapons in hand. But the fog swept around them, freezing them in place. There was a sound like glass shattering, and thunder rolled across the sky as tongues of lightning forked horizontally across the ground.

Threads of blue energy crawled and snaked around the immobile company, turning each of them into fiery statues. Fìli looked at his brother in alarm. Lightning as fine as spider's web adorned his dark hair like a living crown, and cords of the pale blue light were wrapped around his entire body. As Fìli's gaze widened, he realized that all of the dwarves and Bilbo looked this way.

Everything became a haze of vivid white, twisting and curling with black clouds that seemed to devour the light itself. Time was slowing, stretching; there was no sound, only the echoes. With a final snap, the lightning vanished and all was plunged into darkness.

/

None realized when their memories slowly changed. There was a second of momentary confusion; as though the mind had been unmoored and set adrift on a dark sea and then all was washed away and memories became sharp and clear again.

Frodo forgot the cousin who had taken him in when he was just in his tweens, and instead remembered Bilbo as the peculiar hobbit who had abandoned respectability and had run off on an adventure and was foolish enough to never come back from it.

Bilbo was nothing more than the hobbit who had left his home and possessions to Frodo, including the troublesome gold ring that hung around the hobbit's neck. Frodo was not inclined to think of Bilbo very kindly. Why couldn't the cursed ring have vanished with him?

Gimli's memories were much changed. For now, Erebor had never been reclaimed and his people still lived in Ered Luin. The grief of sixty years of mourning his father rolled upon him in waves, and a strange bitterness crept into his heart like a thief. Thorin Oakenshield, and all those with him, had mysteriously vanished on the outskirts of Mirkwood, leaving behind nothing but a few packs and the ponies that Beorn had lent to them.

For Gandalf, it was regret that weaved itself uninvited into his thoughts. It was shortly after he had left them that the dwarves had vanished, and he had been shocked when Beorn's messenger had brought him the distressing news. The wizard felt especially guilty over Bilbo's fate, for he had set the hobbit out on that path and therefore had felt very responsible for him.

Long had he searched for the missing travelers, but to no avail. They were gone, and had not a left a single clue as to where. Sorrowful and confused, Gandalf had gathered what few possessions they had left behind and returned them to their families.

For the other members of the Fellowship, very little had changed. Certainly, the history of Middle Earth had become altered, but their memories and personal lives were left virtually untouched.

They were a mere six days out of Rivendell when they saw a storm on the horizon before them. Angry black clouds swirled close to the earth, and the lightning struck thick and fast. The wind blasted around them, chilling and strange.

The storm was clearly of an unnatural sort, for it was not very large, and banks of black mist pooled around it. There was so much lightning that the small space between cloud and sky was a brilliant, pulsating orb of light, surrounded by dancing tendrils of energy.

As suddenly as it had all began, it came to a halt. The clouds seemed to melt seamlessly back into the sky, the fog dissipated slowly and the howling wind ceased. For all the violence that the sudden storm had unleashed, the land seemed completely unharmed.

The area that the storm had broken over was littered with large boulders, and even Legolas was unable to discern what had lain directly underneath the storm's fury.

"Gandalf?" Aragorn whispered.

"We shall investigate." The wizard replied to the ranger's unanswered question. "But keep your weapons ready, and be prepared for anything."

But no one in their company could possibly have readied themselves for what they were about to discover, for it was to be a remarkable thing indeed.

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**A/N: Alright, so this will be a story of epic proportions. The first installment "Of Quest and Company" will cover the events of FOTR starting after the Fellowship has left Rivendell (obviously) and each chapter will be quite long, so I'll probably only update about once a week. Hopefully more, but I can make no promises.**

**Although Aragorn and Thorin are listed as the main characters, the story will be about everyone. And, this is an AU, so things could possibly diverge from the books/movies in radical ways (any suggestions?). This story will also be quite humorous at times because of the interactions between the characters. Writing for this group should be a lot of fun!**

**This will be a combination of the books and movies, and some of the characterizations will differ somewhat from the movie. For instance, Legolas will be more like he was in the book, i.e. more lighthearted and mischievous (Also, I'm going to give him green eyes-I think they suit him better). As for other characters, just read and find out!  
**

**So, tell me what you think and don't hesitate to ask questions! Reviews will make me so excited I shall froth at the mouth and vomit rainbows. **

**Now, I shall leave you with that unfortunate image. Farewell!**


	3. Chapter 1: What Should Never Be

**A/N: Here's the first chapter, sorry for the long wait!**

**This chapter is completely about the Fellowship, and expands a little on how Gimli and Frodo were changed by the rift in time. Sadly, this chapter is kind of short and nothing really happens :-/**

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Gimli tightened his grip on the haft of his axe, bringing it closer to his body. The expectation of a fight stirred his blood and he licked his lips expectantly.

The axe was a special weapon, one he'd made himself after the disappearance of the company of Thorin Oakenshield. On its head, he'd carved the names of the thirteen missing dwarves in ancient Khuzdul runes. It was a memorial he carried with him always, for the grief was still near, even after sixty years.

In those sixty years, the missing dwarves had become immortalized in legend and song. Their's was a tragic tale, of desperate men who had sought to retake their home, and had been foiled by the most unexpected circumstances.

Gimli listened to the songs and stories and internalized them, writing down the words on his stony heart with a hammer and chisel. He would never forget them. Everything he had become was a result of that one event, that one moment in his life that overshadowed all others. The course of his life, all of his aims and purposes, had shifted dramatically when Gandalf had delivered that shocking message so long ago.

Over the years, Gimli had meticulously groomed an outward façade of being a stern and serious dwarf, never one to laugh quickly or lose his temper easily. Unconsciously, he'd developed a cautious wisdom, standing in for the leaders they'd lost. Without dwarves like Thorin and Balin, the exiles of the Lonely Mountain floundered and young dwarves like Gimli had to fill the gap.

When he'd been chosen to go to Rivendell, Gimli had attired himself in his finest clothes and mail. If he was to represent his father, it was best to do it properly. Let all who looked upon him know that the dwarves of Erebor were still a strong and proud people.

The others perceived him as being grim and sparse with words and conversation, and the dwarf did not know what he thought of that. Certainly, he did not like that the younger Halflings seemed half scared of him, but there seemed little he could do to change things.

Gandalf, Aragorn, Boromir, and Frodo did not seem to care whether he laughed or spoke or barked like a dog. _Well, that last one might cause a few raised eyebrows…_ Gimli suppressed an amused chortle and schooled his features into a mask of boredom.

Then there was the elf. The _dratted _elf. The natural strife between their two peoples had guaranteed that there would be little friendship between them, but the elf seemed to enjoy making it worse. With one cocky smirk Legolas could perfectly unravel Gimli's carefully cultivated patience. The elf was a flighty nuisance, an overgrown child that delighted in watching the wind blow and listening to flowers talk to each other.

Gimli felt odd even thinking about such things.

Merry and Pippin's childish behavior was bearable, for they were young; but Legolas had at least a thousand years to his name, and apparently hadn't learned any sense in that time. Even though Gimli had become proficient at masking his temper—well, for a dwarf anyway—he found himself engaged in verbal sparring matches quite often.

Right now, the fellowship traveled in silence through the gloomy late afternoon. The breeze was not strong, yet cut through them like a sharp blade nonetheless. Gimli had gone on many a journey, so he was somewhat used to the chill, but the hobbits did not fare well in the cold.

The four of them walked in the middle of the group, Sam leading the ever-faithful Bill. The two youngest were behind the pony, talking quietly and munching on apples. Merry and Pippin had complained quite often that there was a distressing lack of food on this quest, and had taken to walking behind the pony so they could snitch apples from the pack without Sam seeing. In a moment of joviality, Gimli had made a bet with Aragorn, wagering that Sam would never notice. With a sly smile, Aragorn had taken the bet.

Frodo walked beside Sam, his thoughts obviously far from their company. Knowing that Frodo's cousin had been a part of Thorin's company had piqued Gimli's interest, but he didn't ask about it. The matter was a sore point with the dwarf, and possibly with the hobbit as well.

Frodo's thoughts were indeed far away from his present company. Around his neck, the Ring hung like dead weight, reminding him of the past. When his parents had drowned, he had gone and lived with his mother's relations the Brandybucks in Brandy Hall.

That was the first time he met Gandalf. The wizard had not visited the Shire in a long while, and had immediately taken the adventurous young hobbit lad under his wing. Frodo smiled fondly as he remembered all of the fireworks and wild stories he had enjoyed during Gandalf's many visits.

He had just entered his tweens when Gandalf first told him the story of Bilbo. How he had run off on an adventure, forgetting his handkerchief in the process, and had outwitted trolls and fought orcs, goblins, and wargs. The wizard spoke fondly of the thirteen dwarves who had been Bilbo's companions, chuckling as he proclaimed them a "merry gathering", and describing how the thoroughly flummoxed Bilbo had reacted when they had all showed up at Bag End and invaded (and emptied) his pantry without proper invitation.

With sadness in his wise eyes, Gandalf had regretfully reported that the entire gathering had vanished mysteriously and had never been heard from since. The wizard himself had searched earnestly, but had uncovered no clues as to their fate.

Frodo had grieved over their disappearance as though he had known them personally; due, no doubt, to the way Gandalf had brought them to life for him. The tale made him wish for adventures of his own, far away from the peaceful green hills of the Shire.

Over the years, Frodo had taken to viewing Gandalf as a close relative. Closer than most of his blood kin. Nothing like a father or grandfather, of course, for those were a little too commonplace for a wizard, but rather an eccentric old uncle that the rest of the family considered to be very disreputable and whispered about behind his back. Gandalf's influence on Frodo's life was tolerated by the other hobbits, for many of them assumed that Frodo would turn out to be another Bilbo anyway.

The wizard led the fellowship through narrow trails that curled around boulders and small bushes, and they drew steadily closer to the area where the storm had touched down. There was a prickling unease in the air, for all were suspicious that this was some device of the enemy. Some considered it more prudent to simply go around the area and avoid it altogether, but Gandalf wanted a closer look.

Aragorn walked beside the wizard, his attention carefully trained on the area ahead. Their path led them into a small valley, and the rocks around them rose above their heads. An ambush probably wouldn't be detected until too late.

Legolas had come to the front at the behest of the ranger, for his hearing was the keenest and he would be most likely to recognize the sound of any foes hiding nearby. Since they possessed the most brute strength, Boromir and Gimli walked abreast of each other in the back. The hobbits were in the middle, apprehension growing slowly on their faces.

The elf suddenly halted, holding one slim hand aloft. "There are others on the path ahead."

"How far?" Aragorn asked, his voice a wary whisper.

"They are close, and they are moving steadily towards us. But they do not attempt to hide their presence." Legolas tilted his head to the side. "They are quite noisy actually, despite being few in number."

"Perhaps we should turn back. We do not know the number of this mysterious company, and they could possibly be spies of Sauron." Aragorn counseled.

But Gandalf was intent on following this particular road to its bitter end. "If their company is small and they make no attempt at stealth, then they cannot be very _good _spies."

Boromir slowly drew his sword. "Perhaps Gandalf should wait with the Halflings while the rest of us proceed?"

The wizard 'harrumphed' softly and raised his bristling eyebrows. "Boromir and Gimli shall wait with the Halflings, while Aragorn, Legolas and I shall look ahead."

Looking only a _little _disgruntled, Boromir herded the hobbits behind a boulder, Gimli bringing up the rear.

Aragorn was still uncertain about this strong compulsion of the wizard's to investigate this odd phenomenon. It was more than idle curiosity, Aragorn knew, that drove the wizard to investigate. This interest was an old one, connected to something from the past.

Once the other members of the company were safely away, the last three listened to the sound of footsteps drawing closer. Legolas had been right, whoever this was certainly wasn't proficient in the art of stealth.

"Now then, I think the element of surprise would be beneficial here." So saying, Gandalf raised his staff with a strong upwards thrust as he stepped out from behind the rock that had concealed him. With sword high and arrow nocked, the elf and the ranger stepped out on either side of the wizard.

Brilliant white light flooded from around Gandalf, washing out all color and sending the band of people in front of them to the ground, covering their eyes.

The plan was ridiculously simple; stun and confound the unidentified party, determine whether they were friend or foe, and take appropriate action. Aragorn knew that Gandalf most have done this hundreds of times.

But Gandalf didn't follow the plan, Gandalf did nothing. Still holding his staff high, the wizard looked down at the surprised company and did nothing. Surprise deeper than any the ranger had seen upon the wizard's face was there, mixed with disbelief.

"Thorin?"

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**A/N: I hope that wasn't disappointing! The next chapter will be entitled "An Unexpected Meeting" (ha, see what I did there?) and will explain how the Ring came to Frodo, and also include the long awaited meeting of the two companies.**

**Don't forget to review!**


	4. Chapter 3: An Unexpected Meeting

**A/N: Here it is, the long awaited meeting! Longer A/N after the chapter.**

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Everything was still and black. The blackness was eternal, the silence never ending. The world lay outside the darkness, Bilbo knew, but he could neither hear nor touch it. This thick, suffocating cloud blinded him, cutting him off from air and light and sound.

Was this death? Was the afterlife a void wherein one could not breathe or move or hardly think, where one did not properly possess their body? Floating forever in nothingness seemed a bloody boring way to spend eternity, Bilbo decided in irritation.

Each thought slipped away from his grasp as soon as he could think it, and he struggled to remember the seconds that had come before. Or were they years? They seemed like the same thing. _Though I suppose they are the same thing in eternity._ Perhaps that's what "forever" was: everything happening in a single second that only _seemed _long.

At last, a feeling like waking came over the hobbit. The confusion slowly drained from his body, the disorientation of the choking shadow slowly abandoning him. Memory returned, and he longed for more than just the darkness. He remembered trees, sunlight, and wind and felt homesick for them.

A dull roar suddenly sounded from within—or perhaps outside of—the void; a sound like the wind blowing through leafless trees, accompanied by ripping wood. Bilbo struggled to get away from it, for it was a terrifying sound, but he could not move.

Light touched the darkness, rays slowly cutting through the thick darkness like silver blades. Pale stars streaked across the night, leaving sparkling trails of dust behind them. The black turned to blinding white in a sudden flash and the roaring faded away. The world flickered back into existence, and Bilbo drank in the sight of sky and grass greedily.

The dwarves were all here as well, still frozen in the same position they'd been in before the storm had struck. As Bilbo anxiously waited for mobility to return, he realized that the landscape was dramatically different. Mirkwood was gone, and instead they were on a hilly plain dotted with boulders.

What was going on here?

Breath and movement restored at once, Thorin stumbled forward and almost fell on his face. The other dwarves blinked owlishly and looked around them. Hadn't there just been a forest? The dwarves looked at each other uneasily. Sure, Mirkwood was an enchanted place, but was simply up and vanishing part of its magic?

Gripping his sword and levering it into a defensive stance, Thorin turned himself about slowly, eyes taking in every detail. The company was fine—shaken and confused—but unharmed. Like his king, Dwalin had his axe at the ready and was looking for any foe that could spring from behind one of the large boulders around them.

Fili and Kili were standing next to each other, making sure that they were both fine. Likewise, Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur had huddled together, and Dori and Nori were helping Ori back to his feet, the young dwarf having lost his balance after the storm had released them. Oin and Gloin were standing back to back, studying their new surroundings suspiciously.

Bilbo had made his way over to Balin and was quietly asking him what had happened. Balin could only shake his head and look to Thorin, his eyes wide and questioning. The younger dwarf shrugged in response. He had never heard of a thing like this happening before.

"Where are we?" Kìli asked loud enough for everyone to hear, though his question was directed at no one in particular.

"Not where we were five seconds ago, to be sure." Bofur replied, his eternal good cheer only slightly affected by the recent turn of events.

"What happened to us?" Ori asked Dori.

"Well, _I_ don't know." The older dwarf responded waspishly, shaken by all that had transpired.

All of them still felt a little foggy, as one feels when they are woken suddenly from deep sleep. Each had the strange feeling that years had passed, yet left them behind. But that couldn't be right, they'd only been in the dark storm for a few seconds. And no one had changed a bit.

Gloin had never felt so weary. Exhaustion clung like a weight to his bones, making his movements sluggish and pained. Looking at the others, he realized he wasn't the only one. Every one of his companions was moving stiffly. A great strain seemed to have been placed on them, as if they had been buried deeply in the ground and had to fight their way back to the light.

"Everyone stay together. If that happens again, I don't want anyone separated from the group." Thorin commanded, lowering his sword. The dwarves came together as quickly as they could, seeking stability from the one familiar thing that remained: each other.

"What are we going to do now, Thorin?" Balin asked quietly.

"There is little we can do, other than figure out where we are."

Fili overheard his uncle and leaned forward. "Does this area look familiar at all?"

"No. We could be anywhere."

"We could go to the top of that hill for a better vantage point." Bilbo piped up, nodding towards a rise not far distant.

Having recently acquired a certain amount of respect for the hobbit, Thorin deemed his idea the best course of action. "But stay close and keep your weapons ready. We know not what foul creatures we may find."

Uncertainly, the company set out, wending their way through the boulders towards the hill. They judged it to be in the late afternoon, and all around them the world lay cheerless and grey. The clouds hung low and dark, and the dwarves were suddenly aware of the biting cold.

"So, winter has fallen suddenly and an entire forest has vanished. What else do ye think we'll find?" Dwalin muttered to Balin.

"Nothing good, brother, nothing good."

There was a sudden sound from ahead, like a sword being drawn from its sheath, and Thorin halted the dwarves with a raised hand. "Draw your weapons, silently now! Kili, ready your bow."

Although his own bow had been lost in Goblin Town, Beorn had provided Kìli—and several of the other dwarves—with new ones. Out of habit, Kili was the one that Thorin called upon to fill the position of resident archer.

Spreading themselves out, the dwarves readied themselves for whatever was about to walk around the corner. Fili stayed close by his brother, swords at the ready. As the storm had fallen on them, Fili had tried to reach Kili, and the look of terror on each dwarf's face was the last thing either of them saw. Each moment in the darkness had been spent wondering if they would ever see each other again, and never had they been more relieved than when the fog had passed and they could see and move again.

Even now, Kili couldn't help but look immensely consoled every time he glanced over and saw Fili standing by his side. The world may have completely changed, but his brother was the only constant he really needed.

White light suddenly blinded them, the force and the surprise combined with their weariness knocking them to their knees. Was this a continuation of the storm? Or was this something worse? Once again, they struggled to their feet. All of these magical manifestations were becoming rather tiresome.

Kili was one of the first up and ready, pointing an arrow at the dark figure behind the light. Recognition slowly dawned and he lowered his bow. What was Gandalf doing back here? _Though we aren't where we were when he left us so maybe he should be asking _us_ that question._

Stranger than the wizard's appearance was the look on his face. Never had Gandalf looked quite so… startled. The obvious astonishment on his face was an unnerving thing to Kili, and he looked to his uncle for reassurance.

"Thorin?" Gandalf's voice was barely more than a whisper. The wizard was literally gaping at them, slack jawed and wide eyed.

Kili glanced back towards Gandalf, and noticed for the first time that the wizard wasn't alone. On one side of him stood a tall man, dressed in worn and weather-beaten clothes. The man's gaze was confused, almost amazed, and Kili wondered at his and Gandalf's surprised reactions.

When Kili laid eyes on Gandalf's other companion, his bow came right back up. The young dwarf had not dealt with elves often, but he didn't need experience to know that facing down an armed elf was a dangerous situation to be in.

"Are they friend or foe?" The elf asked softly, both his eye and his arrow trained on the dwarves. Behind the razor sharp arrowhead, green eyes watched the group distrustfully.

"They are friends." Gandalf replied at length, his voice low and touched by many emotions. Slowly, he lowered his staff, leaning upon it heavily.

Thorin stepped forward, his face a mixture of relief and indignation, and when he spoke, he took no care to mask his annoyance.

"Gandalf! What in Durin's name is going on here?"

"That is what _I _would like to know." Gandalf replied. "You are unchanged since last we met." The wizard's voice was probing, searching for any clue that might lie in Thorin's answer.

"How much do you expect me to change in a day?" The dwarf raised an imperious, irritated eyebrow.

The wizard's eyes narrowed. "Legolas, perhaps you should go tell the others that everything is fine, and to set up camp. We shall not be traveling any more tonight, I fear."

Thorin watched the elf leave with unveiled suspicion lighting his eyes. Gandalf could see all the questions the dwarf wanted to ask, and realized that Thorin was almost as confused as he was. But first things first.

"Aragorn, allow me to introduce you to the company of Thorin Oakenshield." Any questions the ranger had were silenced by a sharp look from Gandalf.

"This is Aragorn, son of Arathorn, heir to the throne of Gondor. Aragorn, this is Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, king under the mountain." The two bowed deeply, each recognizing the other's nobility and lineage, but neither over-awed.

"And these are his companions…" The rest of the dwarves gathered close, and Gandalf did a quick head count, smiling happily at each member of the long-missing band. "Ori, Dori, Nori—" The brothers bobbed up and down in response, polite as ever, "—Oin, Gloin—" the two dwarves each fisted a hand over their heart, "—Bifur, Bofur, Bombur—" Bofur's wide grin and friendly nod were returned in full measure by Aragorn, "Balin, Dwalin—" Balin was as gracious as Dwalin was grim, "—and Thorin's sister's sons, Fili and Kili." The two youngest dwarves bowed deeply from the waist and came back up grinning. Once again, Aragorn found himself returning the smile.

"And where is the burglar?" Gandalf asked, frowning a little.

Out of instinct, the dwarves began looking around in panic. "I'm right here!" Bilbo said, elbowing past Bombur to stand in front of Gandalf.

"Ah, there you are, Bilbo." The hobbit didn't understand why Gandalf looked so relieved, but he'd understood few things that had happened that day so he just accepted it.

"Aragorn, allow me to introduce Bilbo Baggins, of the Shire." Remembering his manners, Bilbo tried to bow in as dignified a way as he possibly could, but he still felt like a duck dipping its head under the water.

"Well met, Master Baggins." Aragorn said, shooting Gandalf another pointed look. Thorin intercepted the look and fastened a glare on the wizard. Gandalf's smile twitched and reluctantly faded. Now, he knew, was the time for difficult questions and he feared that satisfying questions would be few.

"Tell me all that has befallen you since I left you all on the borders of Mirkwood, Thorin."

For a moment, the dwarf king looked of a mind to disagree, but he spoke at long last. "The morning after you took your leave of us at the wood—_this_ morning—we made preparation to enter the forest. It was during this time that a black fog blew towards us out of the forest, and before we could get away, we were frozen where we were."

Thorin told the full tale, and Gandalf listened, his face betraying nothing.

"Now that our story is told, what of yours? How came you to be in this place, traveling with such… strange companions?" Thorin asked, spearing Aragorn with a frosty glance. If the Dunadan took any offense at either the look or word of the dwarf, he did not show it.

"That, my dear Thorin, is a long story which shall wait for just a moment longer. There is something else which I believe I should inform you of." Gandalf paused; this was going to be a sticky business, for he hardly knew what was going on himself. Knowing that everyone was relying on _him_, the wizard, to explain everything was also slightly unnerving.

"It has been sixty years since I left you at Mirkwood, Thorin. All fourteen of you vanished from there, and this is the first time anyone has seen or heard from you since." It was gently stated, but it sounded horribly blunt as it hung in the air.

No one knew quite how to respond. Emotions raced swiftly across the dwarves' faces; shock, disbelief, denial, anger. Already some were beginning to shake their heads vigorously and if the situation hadn't been so serious, the wizard would have been tempted to laugh at their comical expressions. All of them began to talk at once, except Thorin. Some protested loudly, others muttered darkly. Even Bilbo, having been influenced by his long exposure to them, had also began talking.

For his part, Aragorn remained silent. There was no doubt in his mind that a great power had brought the dwarves here, and the coincidence was too great for there not to be a purpose behind it. The ranger was too wary to believe that force that had accomplished this was without malicious intent.

"Enough!" Thorin commanded harshly. The dwarves fell silent, looking between their leader and Gandalf for an explanation. "If what you say is true, then how could such a thing have happened?" The dwarf king's voice was low and dark with anger, anger at what he perceived to be a lie or a mistake, but also colored by the fury that is borne of fear. Fear that what Gandalf was saying was the truth.

Sensing this fear—this suspicion—in Thorin, the others began to wonder. What if it was true? Dread sat coldly in the pits of their stomachs and their hearts pounded hard in their chests. Aragorn saw it in their eyes and felt pity for them, for to be displaced so would be a hard thing to fathom or accept.

"I don't know." Gandalf replied slowly. "The storm you spoke of was seen by many birds and beasts, who informed Beorn of it. After investigating, Beorn found some of your packs left on the ground and searched for you. Finding nothing, he sent for me and we searched together. But you were gone, and no trace of you was left in Middle Earth.

"Believe me when I say that I hunted long and tirelessly for any news, any sign of a similar occurrence. In all the annals of the world, nothing like this has ever happened and none have reported a storm like that in the world since. Until today."

There went Thorin's eyebrow again, creeping towards his hairline. It was a look that had always irritated Gandalf, regal condescension not being something he tended to enjoy.

It was Bilbo who spoke, though, his words hesitant. "The storm you saw today, it was—back there, where we came from, wasn't it?"

Gandalf nodded regretfully and Bilbo fell into a troubled silence. He didn't need the wizard to tell him what he already knew. This storm had only been seen twice, once when they'd disappeared and again when they'd reappeared. Somehow, this storm had ripped them from their own time and place, and deposited them here.

Aragorn spoke the hobbit's suspicions aloud. "Doubtless this storm was created for that sole purpose; to take you from your own time into this one. But what form of magic would be capable of this, I don't know. Nothing of its kind has ever existed in the world before."

Thorin, however, was not satisfied. "If I am to believe this story, I shall require proof."

"Of course, Thorin, of course. You are right to demand evidence, for mine is a hard tale to accept. Especially since, in your estimation, only a day has lapsed since we saw each other last. As for the proof that you require, I believe one of my companions shall satisfy your curiosity quite nicely. Gloin's son, Gimli, is a member of my present company and if my words do not sway you, his face definitely shall."

Gloin stepped forward then, sputtering angrily. "Gimli? What cause have you to be taking him from his home? The boy's too young to be gadding about on any mad quests, especially with an elf! For what purpose have you taken my son from his home?"

"I shall not tolerate that tone from you, Master Gloin! As you shall see, Gimli is quite old enough to make his own decisions. As for the purpose of this quest, _that_ shall be explained shortly." Gandalf was becoming exasperated now, his words clipped and his tone short.

"Now come, the others will be wondering what has happened to us, and that won't be good for them. Quietly! I don't want them mistaking us for a band of orcs!"

/

After Legolas delivered Gandalf's message, the remaining members of the fellowship began setting up camp for the night, which was a very short process since building a fire was not allowed. The four hobbits were seated in a line with their backs against a rock, smoking their pipeweed and conversing quietly.

Boromir, Gimli, and Legolas had chosen to stand as far away from each other as possible while still technically remaining within the borders of the campsite. While Boromir did not openly bear strife towards either the elf or the dwarf, his dealings with those races had been few and he was still unsure of them.

Chilly silence reigned between the three of them, even though one would occasionally make a brief foray into the hobbit's conversation.

Boromir turned his face towards the darkness, wondering what was keeping Gandalf and Aragorn. Legolas had said little but his eyes had been uncharacteristically troubled, and he drifted to the edge of camp and looked long and hard into the gathering twilight, his bow held tightly in his hands.

An unsettled feeling had lain uneasy on Boromir's mind since they had seen the dark storm on the horizon. There was something… amiss. A change had swept over him, it seemed, though nothing was different. Glancing quickly at the others, he wondered if they felt it.

_Nothing has changed_, he reassured himself. Then why did he feel so lost? And he was certain that it was more than just his imagination that told him that his companions were plagued by the same doubts. Besides, as Faramir was fond of saying, Boromir's imagination wasn't the best.

A smile tugged at the corner of Boromir's mouth. Faramir would know better how to deal with elves and dwarves, would readily take to it, in fact. Always his younger brother was poring over books and maps, much more a man of peace than a man of war. Slight homesickness tugged at his spirit, and Boromir shrugged it off regretfully. Soon, his part in this quest would be over and he could return to his people, where he was truly needed.

Legolas turned his gaze suddenly, his grip tightening around his bow. The other's heard it a moment later; the sound of footsteps approaching. Boromir's hand went to his sword reflexively, for the party drawing near sounded like a large group. Gimli readied his axe, and the hobbits scrambled to their feet in alarm.

"Put your bow away, Legolas, it is only Aragorn and I." Gandalf said, slowly emerging from the dark. Aragorn was beside him, but everyone's eyes were drawn to the dwarf who walked beside the wizard. Tall for a dwarf, he bore himself with peculiar majesty and pride, making himself seem much bigger than he was. Boromir noticed there was an entire line of dwarves behind Gandalf, extending into the dark.

"It cannot be!" Gimli's axe fell to the ground, his hands hanging limply at his side. "Gandalf, what sorcery is this? Tell me!" The dwarf's voice was shaking, whether from anger or fear it was impossible to tell.

"It is no sorcery, Gimli, at least not of my doing . I am at a loss as to explain how it has happened, but what you see before you is real. You have not been deceived." The wizard's voice was soothing, but Gimli did not appear to be placated. His strong hands fisted tightly, until Boromir was afraid his knuckles would snap.

Out of the darkness came a host of motley dwarves, and the fellowship gaped at them in shock. The dwarf company stared right back, but their gaze seemed to contain more fear and confusion. The lot of them looked very weary and they warily clung to their weapons. Boromir was reminded of the many people he'd seen over the years who had just lost their homes, for in the dwarves' eyes he saw that same lost, listless look.

Gimli felt like a knife had been plunged into his gut. His mind refused to believe what his eye told him was true; he couldn't move, couldn't breathe, couldn't speak. Around him, the world fell into dull silence and a voice inside him screamed in denial and grief.

All of it came upon him at once, all the years of sorrow crashed upon his wounded soul at once, and Gimli's body trembled under its force. Before him stood Thorin Oakenshield, looking exactly as he had so very long ago.

But more painful still was to see his father, unchanged, as though the seemingly endless days of sadness had been but a dream, and now Gloin had woken him from the nightmare.

"You're dead." Gimli said gruffly.

"My son, I—" But there was nothing Gloin could say. This hard-eyed dwarf standing before him, face lined by age and hardship, was a stranger, not his son. This was an impossible thing to try and understand, to have someone you love so much suddenly become a different person.

Raising his voice, Gandalf once again made the lengthy introductions, bringing the rest of the fellowship out of the dark. Perhaps it wasn't the best way to proceed, simply introducing everyone as though they were all here for tea, but the wizard wasn't sure how he was supposed to react to a situation like this, it being such a singular occurrence. Everyone was confused, of course, and Gandalf wished he had the answers they all expected from him. Did no one understand that wizards didn't know everything?

"And the rest of our fellowship: the Halflings, Frodo Baggins, Sam Gamgee, Meriadoc Brandybuck, and Peregrine Took; Boromir, son of Denethor, Steward of Gondor, and Legolas… of the Mirkwood Realm."

Gandalf winced slightly as he made that last introduction, for Thorin turned and pinned a steely glare on the elf. Legolas responded with a glare of his own, eyes flashing dangerously. If looks could kill, the two of them would certainly both be dead.

With a start, Gandalf realized he'd forgotten poor Bilbo again. What was Frodo to think of this? Already the ring bearer's eyes were wide with surprise, and he looked ready to faint.

"Bilbo, come out from behind Bofur, there's someone I should like you to meet."

The dwarves parted and Bilbo was left in the open, looking rather uncomfortable.

"Frodo, this is your cousin Bilbo Baggins. Bilbo, this is Drogo's son Frodo." With a conspiratorial air, Gandalf leaned over and whispered, "Drogo married Primula Brandybuck."

"Drogo and Primula? Well, well." Bilbo chuckled and then cleared his throat. "Ah, you look like them, your parents, I mean. You really do." Bilbo rocked back and forth uncertainly, and wished that everyone would stop staring at him. For his part, Frodo was still trying to puzzle through this.

Gandalf tried to explain the situation as best he could, but no one felt especially enlightened afterwards. "Now, I think, I need to talk to Thorin and his companions and do a bit of explaining."

Gloin stepped forward nervously. "I should like to speak to Gimli, if I may." This entire situation had the usually fiery dwarf in a state of unusual timidity.

"Of course, Gloin, you must have many questions."

Father and son walked away from the others, both grimfaced and silent.

/

After everyone was settled on the ground, the wizard told the dwarf company (and Bilbo) of the One Ring of Sauron, and how they were taking it to Mordor so that it could be cast into the fires of Mount Doom and unmade. The telling of that story took a long while, for the dwarves had many questions and few qualms about interrupting.

Boromir and the Halflings were the only members of the fellowship who remained to hear the story. Aragorn had gone to stand watch, and Legolas had went with him.

At the conclusion of the story, after Gandalf spoke of all that had happened in Rivendell, and how the fellowship came to be, Thorin sat musing silently. Most of the other dwarves were beginning to nod off despite themselves. Never had they felt so weary.

Bilbo, though, had an important question of his own. "How did Frodo get the Ring if I left it in my pack outside of Mirkwood?"

"When Beorn told me of your disappearance, I was quick to come and do a little searching of my own. There, I found the few things you'd left lying on the ground. I returned all of these things to your families. I left your pack, Bilbo, in Bag End."

"Why didn't you find the Ring _then_?" Bilbo interjected.

"My dear hobbit, I had just misplaced a dwarf king, his twelve companions, and their burglar. I was… distracted." Gandalf replied in aggravation.

"Hmm, well." Was Bilbo's thoughtful reply. "What happened then?"

"The creature, Gollum, was captured and spoke of 'Baggins' and the Shire. I went to Bag End on a hunch and searched it high and low. I found the Ring in that hidden pocket, just where you'd stuck it sixty years ago."

Thorin leaned forward, his gaze taking in Frodo. The hobbit straightened and tried to make himself taller, unconsciously mimicking his cousin's reaction to the imposing dwarf. "And how did you come to give the ring to _him_?"

"Because the Ring is ever searching for one to seduce, and I was all too easy a target. Hobbits are remarkable creatures, I've always said. Where a warrior or king might fail, a hobbit will do exceedingly well."

"So Bag End has been empty all this time?" Bilbo piped up, thinking of what sixty years could've done to his beloved hobbit-hole.

"Do not worry yourself, I took care of it till Frodo came of age, then I thought he would be a suitable occupant. Forgive me, Bilbo, for I thought you dead."

Bilbo squirmed uncomfortably and muttered something under his breath, but no one understood him.

Since hobbit-holes were of little importance to him, Thorin saw fit to change the subject. "What shall we do now? My company has all but been left behind by the world, we lack a home even more than we did before."

"I don't know." The words were spoken with a deep and weary sigh. "Perhaps, though, you should all rest for the night." Gandalf's eyes twinkled merrily in the dark, for half the dwarves had fallen asleep already, leaning on each other in their sleep.

Despite himself, Thorin had to agree. His bones ached and his eyelids were heavy. With a fog of sleepiness over his mind, his thoughts were a jumbled mess. Trying to stay awake only drained him further.

"Very well. But we shall speak further in the morning." Thorin laid down in the grass, unable to hold himself upright any longer.

"Of course, Thorin."

But the dwarf had already fallen asleep.

/

Gloin stroked his beard thoughtfully. Neither he nor Gimli had spoken yet; the son still in shock, and the father still struggling to comprehend this most trying of days. What was there to say? How did one speak to a stranger that was also your child?

"Father, I'm sorry." Gimli's voice was so soft it was almost swallowed by the night. His gaze hadn't left the ground.

"What is there to be sorry for, Gimli?"

"When I saw you, I did not feel glad when I saw. I was confused… and angry."

Gloin fastened a sharp look on his son—who was now the same age as him. "Why?"

Raising his axe, which he had retrieved from the ground, Gimli held it out towards his father. "After you vanished, we despaired. We were lost, leaderless. Our people had no king, and I… I had no father. I carved your names here, on the blades of my axe, so that I would never forget you. So the world would never forget you."

Tears sprang up in Gimli's eyes, and the invisible wall that had separated the two of them slowly crumbled. Wrapping his son in a crushing embrace, Gloin held Gimli close as he let out his anger and grief in mighty sobs.

"I've missed you, Father! It was so hard for us without you." Gimli choked out, trembling with emotion.

"I'm sorry, laddie. If I could've prevented you that pain, you know I would've." Gloin put his hands on his son's shoulders and looked him in the eye. "What of your mother? Is she well?"

Fresh grief spread over Gimli's face, causing his father's heart to race in fear. "She was taken twenty years ago by a disease that swept through Ered Luin. The years were unkind to her, and she wasn't strong enough…"

Rage boiled in Gloin's blood, drowning his spirit in howls of despair though no sound escaped his lips. Dead for twenty years? How could this be? Just a few months ago he'd bid Nali farewell, promising that he would return with enough treasure to keep their small family well-fed and wealthy for many years. She'd laughed and said that as long as he came back alive she cared little for silver and gold.

Gloin wasn't aware that he had fallen, weeping, to his knees. He wasn't aware that his son was holding him up, nor did he hear Gimli's quiet assurances.

It was suddenly, terrifyingly real. This was no dream, there was no waking up. Dreams didn't hurt this bad.

Clinging to each other, the dwarves wept until their tears were spent. They would rejoice at their reunion later; but for now there was only the grief of lost years.

* * *

**A/N: So, what did you think? The next chapter will contain a pow-wow between Gandalf, Thorin, and Aragorn, a conversation between Frodo and Bilbo, and Merry & Pippin shall make the acquaintance of Fili & Kili (heehee!). Plus, there will be general conversing and such as the two companies try to get to know each other.**

**Gah, Aragorn is hard to write! He'll be in the next chapter a lot more, as will Legolas, and I really hope I can get him right.**

**Don't forget to review!**


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